


Under The Bridge

by NothingSerious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Homeless Network, Unusual Job Offer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:43:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingSerious/pseuds/NothingSerious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has no name, she's invisible, she just blends into the background. But what she sees is useful, vital, and sometimes even life-saving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon about the girl under bridge from The Great Game. [Based on this post.](http://sincerely-chaos.tumblr.com/post/129999170091/finalproblem-spare-change-sir-dont-mind) Thank you for the inspiration, [SincerelyChaos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyChaos/pseuds/SincerelyChaos)! 
> 
> And a huge Thank You goes to [Atisenia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Atisenia/pseuds/Atisenia) for just everything.

She wakes with a start when someone kicks a discarded beer can her way.

"What the- "

In seconds, she's on her knees ready to jump at the oncoming danger. Sleeping rough enhances your instincts. A figure in dark clothes crouches some feet away on the ground. He seems to look for something.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you. Didn't see the can," he adds. He looks at her briefly, smiles apologetically and scans the surroundings further.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Tell me what you're looking for, maybe I can help you," she says gruffly. It's still too early to be up but it can't be helped.

"Tie pin. Cheap. Silver. With a fox head on it."

"When it's cheap, can't you just buy a new one?"

He laughs. "Fair enough. But its existence here is vital."

"When did your client loose it?"

"Yesterday even- client?" He looks at her again, straightens to his full height, eyes narrowing. "You've found it."

She gets up, too, staring back at him. Shit. She shouldn't have said that. She scans his face. Hair, skin, appearance. He's well off, wears elegant clothes. Expensive coat. The scarf seems expensive, too, but it's well worn, she sees the pilling of the fabric. Apparently his favourite. But he wears everything with such ease, seems not to care if it gets dirty, he's used to it. He's used to money. The client is obvious. No copper can afford this attire.  
He's doing the same with her. Observing. What can he see? What can he deduce from her old ragged anorak? Her hair? She's not accustomed to posh people talking to her or giving her more than ten seconds of attention. He's different. She should worry. But no, he's not dangerous.

"You've found it." he repeats, his face relaxes. It's a statement, not a question. "And yes," he nods, "client."

"If so, does your client offer a reward?" She treads carefully.

"He?" He scoffs. "No. But I will."

He grabs into his pocket and hands her a red note. Her eyebrows rise.

"It's a bit much for a cheap tie pin."

"I told you, it's important." He clasps his hands behind his back. Deliberately, she notices.

"Oooookay-"

"And I suspect you've seen him losing it."

She looks at him. She tries to keep her face blank. Don't fidget. Just don't.

"Don't worry. I won't drag you to the police. You won't have to make a statement. Just tell me."

She pockets the money and goes to her sleeping bag.

"Here. He lost it around half past eleven yesterday evening. He was with a woman. They were - hum - busy. Didn't see me."

"Can you describe the woman?"

"Not really. Dark clothing. Long coat. With a belt, knotted at the back. She could be blonde or ginger. The light from the lamps makes it difficult to say."

"Something else?"

"Yeah. She had quite big feet. And she smokes a lot. Her voice..." she trails off.

"I see."

His face is blank. She wonders how he does that. She wants to ask him. But she keeps silent. Waits. Keep still. Don't move. Their eyes are still locked.

A moment later he inhales sharply and she startles. "You've been most helpful. Thank you." He turns around and goes.

She grabs into her pocket and feels the note.

 

 

***************************************************************

 

 

They meet again one morning some weeks later. He brings two large paper cups with tea and four brownies.

"Here," he says and sits beside her. She takes the cup and warms her fingers. It was a cold night.

"Thank you." She takes carefully a sip. "How's your client?"

"He got off. From the murder charge. With your help."

"You paid me."

"I paid for the pin. But with your intelligence I was able to consolidate his alibi."

"Did you find the woman, then?"

"Hm. A colleague. I convinced him that a strenuous disagreement with the wife is by far better than some time in jail."

She chuckles. "Colleague. That's really cheap. Did he pay you, at least?"

"Yep." He grins. "I cashed the cheque in as soon as I got it. I suppose, the divorce is going to cost him."

"Hm." She smiles. "I imagine."

They drink their tea in silence. After a while he says, "You are very perceptive."

"Hm," she mumbles into the cup. "Comes with the job."

He huffs a laugh. "I suppose. But anyway, it's useful."

"Meaning?" She looks warily at him over the brim of her cup.

"Meaning, I could employ your observation skills every now and then."

She considers this. "No questions asked?"

"No questions asked."

"No strings attached?"

"No strings attached."

"Deal."

"Thought so." He drains his cup and gets up. "See you around, then," he says and leaves.


End file.
